Life The Science of Biology 11th Edition Sadava Test Bank

Life The Science of Biology 11th Edition

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Life: The Science of Biology, Eleventh Edition
Sadava • Hillis • Heller • Hacker

Chapter 2: Small Molecules and the Chemistry of Life

TEST BANK QUESTIONS

Multiple Choice

1. An atom with has an atomic mass of 14.

a. 14 neutrons
b. 14 electrons
c. 7 neutrons and 7 electrons
d. 7 protons and 7 electrons
e. 6 protons and 8 neutrons
Answer: e
Learning Outcome: 2.1.1.a Describe the structure of an atom.
Bloom’s Level: 3. Applying

2. Which statement about an atom is true?

a. Only protons contribute significantly to the atom’s mass.
b. Only neutrons contribute significantly to the atom’s mass.
c. Only electrons contribute significantly to the atom’s mass.
d. Both protons and neutrons together contribute significantly to the atom’s mass.
e. Both protons and electrons together contribute significantly to the atom’s mass.
Answer: d
Learning Outcome: 2.1.1.a Describe the structure of an atom.
Bloom’s Level: 1. Remembering

3. What is the difference between an atom and an element?

a. An atom is made of protons, electrons, and (most of the time) neutrons; an element is
composed of only one kind of atom.
b. An element is made of protons, electrons, and (most of the time) neutrons; an atom is
composed of only one kind of element.
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c. An atom does not contain electrons, whereas an element does.
d. An atom contains protons and electrons, whereas an element contains protons,
electrons, and neutrons.
e. All atoms are the same, whereas elements differ in structure and properties.
Answer: a
Learning Outcome: 2.1.1.a Describe the structure of an atom.
Bloom’s Level: 2. Understanding

© 2017 Sinauer Associates, Inc.

4. In the history of the discovery of the parts of an atom, the neutron was discovered after
the proton and electron. What property of a neutron made it more difficult than the proton
or electron to discover?
a. Diameter
b. Location in the nucleus
c. Mass
d. Lack of charge
e. Presence in isotopes
Answer: d
Learning Outcome: 2.1.2.a Compare and contrast the properties of protons, neutrons, and
electrons.
Bloom’s Level: 3. Applying

5. The number of protons in a neutral atom equals the number of

a. electrons.
b. neutrons.
c. electrons plus neutrons.
d. neutrons minus electrons.
e. isotopes.
Answer: a
Learning Outcome: 2.1.3.a Explain why atoms typically have no overall electrical charge.
Bloom’s Level: 1. Remembering

6. Which of the following statements about the atom is true?

a. There are usually more protons than electrons in an atom because the negative charge
of an electron is larger than the positive charge of a proton.
b. The negative charge of an electron adds mass to an atom without influencing other
properties.
c. In an atom with a neutral charge, the number of electrons is equal to the number of
protons.
d. The number of electrons determines whether an atom of an element is radioactive.
e. The energy level of electrons is higher in shells close to the nucleus of the atom.
Answer: c
Learning Outcome: 2.1.3.a Explain why atoms typically have no overall electrical charge.
Bloom’s Level: 2. Understanding

7. A lithium atom contains three protons. For this atom to remain inert in an electric field,
it must also contain
a. three neutrons.
b. three electrons.
c. two neutrons and two electrons.
d. no electrons.
e. no neutrons.
Answer: b
Learning Outcome: 2.1.3.a Explain why atoms typically have no overall electrical charge.

© 2017 Sinauer Associates, Inc.

 Another random document
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denoting that the Council was held to decide a question of war. Had its
object been peaceful the fagots would have been of white cedar.

In the center of the circle, on the eastern side, stood the Keeper of the
Wampum, Ho-yo-we-na-to, an Onondaga Wolf and seventh of the roy-an-
ehs of his nation.

"Are you all here, roy-an-ehs of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee?" he called.

"We are all here," replied the roy-an-ehs.

"Now, then," he continued, "behold, I call the roll of you, you who were
the Great Ones, you who were the Shining Ones, you who were joined with
the Pounders. And first I call the roll of the peoples. Are you here, O Da-
go-e-o-ga, the Shield People?"

"We are here, O Keeper," replied Da-ga-e-o-ga, senior roy-an-eh of the

Mohawks.

"Are you here, O Ho-de-san-no-ge-ta, the Name-Bearers?"

"We are here," replied To-do-da-ho for the Onondagas.

"Are you here, O Ho-nan-ne-ho-ont, the Keepers of the Door?"

"We are here," replied Ga-ne-o-di-yo for the Senecas.

"Are you here, O Ne-ar-de-on-dar-go-war, the Great Tree People?"

"We are here," replied Ho-das-ha-teh, senior roy-an-eh of the Oneidas.

"Are you here, O So-nus-ho-gwa-to-war, Great Pipe People?"

"We are here," replied Da-ga-a-yo of the Cayuga Deers.

"Are you here, O Dus-ga-o-weh-o-no, Shirt-Wearing People?"

"We are here," echoed a Tuscarora chief from the position of his people
just outside the charmed circle of the roy-an-ehs.
 Ho-yo-we-na-to raised his arms in a gesture of invocation.

"The peoples are here, O Founders who sit aloft with Ha-wen-ne-yu.
Heed ye now, O peoples. I begin the Roll of the Great Ones."

And his resonant voice sounded like trumpet-blasts blown for a victory
as he intoned the names of the roy-an-ehs, beginning with Da-ga-e-o-ga of
the Mohawk Turtles and ending with Do-ne-ho-ga-weh of the Seneca
Wolves. When, immediately after the name of Da-ga-e-o-ga, he called the
names of the Founders, Ha-yo-wont-ha and Da-ga-no-we-da, he paused,
and the immense concourse of Indians who stood and sat around the fringes
of the meadow all turned their eyes skyward, as if expecting some
demonstration from the Shining Ones.

Again the Keeper of the Wampum raised his arms in invocation. Then
he took from the ground at his feet belt after belt of wampum, and from the
designs woven into them recited, clearly and rapidly, the principal events in
the recorded history of the League and the rules prescribed for the conduct
of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. At the end of his recitative, which was crudely
rhythmical, he addressed himself once more to the assemblage.

Under his direction the skin robes of the roy-an-ehs were deposited on
the ground with the fagots in front of them. The Mohawks, Onondagas and
Senecas, the senior nations, who were brothers to each other, were ranged
on the eastern half of the circle, with the rising sun at their backs. The
Cayugas and Oneidas, who were sons to the three senior nations, with the
Tuscaroras sitting behind them, were on the western side.

The Keeper of the Wampum next set fire to his own fagot by friction,
and then passed around the circle, setting each fagot alight, so that a circle
of little fires blazed up around the sacred Council-Fire. When all the fires
were going he returned to his place and led the roy-an-ehs in a stately
procession three times around the circle, each turning from time to time as
he walked, so as to expose both sides of his person to the heat in
typification of the warming influence of their mutual affections.

With the completion of the third round the fagots had been burned to
cinders; the roy-an-ehs were all seated; and the deliberations of the Council
were begun, the direction of affairs passing simultaneously from the hands
of the Keeper of the Wampum to To-do-da-ho.

"We are met, O my brethren," began the venerable Onondaga, "to

decide whether or no we shall lift the hatchet. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh speaks for
the Keepers of the Door who ask for war."

There would be no point in repeating Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's oration. It was

masterly, superior even to the address by which he carried his own people
with him. The intervening days had given him time for thought and his
statements were the more convincing, his figures more polished, his
arguments more closely reasoned.

He arraigned the whole history of the intercourse of the French with the
League. He described how de Veulle had lured away Ga-ha-no as a young
maid. He expanded the designs of Murray and his French allies. He touched
glowingly upon the friendship of the English. He pointed out how the
fortunes of the two peoples had become intertwined.

The roy-an-ehs and the attendant throngs sat phlegmatically through it

all. An audience of white men must have applauded or derided so positive a
speaker, and I expressed my fears to Ta-wan-ne-ars. He smiled.

"It is the custom of my people," he whispered. "Wait, brother, until the

speeches in answer come."

At last Do-ne-ho-ga-weh sat down. An interval of some minutes

elapsed. Then a roy-an-eh of the Mohawks arose.

"My people have been much concerned over the power which Murray
has acquired," he said. "But it has seemed to us that it was more dangerous
to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go than to us. Why do not the English scotch this snake in
their midst?"

Do-ne-ho-ga-weh explained succinctly the situation which existed in

New York. A Cayuga responded, expressing amazement that the English,
who were usually so sensible, should act in such a childish manner. He
concluded by asking if the League might expect the help of the English in
an attack upon the Doom Trail.

This was the most difficult point we had to overcome, and Do-ne-ho-ga-
weh replied with circumspection.

"It is true, as my brother has said," he answered, "that we might expect

the English to move with us in this matter. But my friends among the
English send me word that their people are blinded for the moment by the
falsities of Murray and the French. Their counsels are divided.

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would welcome our action, and would support it and

protect us from the vengeance of France. But he would find it difficult to
act himself."

"If Ga-en-gwa-ra-go will not act, why should the League act?"
demanded the Cayuga.

"Because it is to the interest of our people to act even more than it is to

the interest of the English," retorted Do-ne-ho-ga-weh with impassioned
energy. "Already the English are more numerous than we are. They have
strong forts. We have only the forest. They have brothers across the Great
Water who will aid them. We have only the uncertain aid of our allies and
subject tribes.

"Some day the French will try to drive the English from the land, but
before they can do that they must destroy our League. It is we who will feel
the first blow, and Murray's trade over the Doom Trail and his bands of
Keepers of the Trail are in preparation for the destruction of the Long
House. If you wait, O my people, you will perish. If you strike now you will
live and the League will continue.

"The decision is in your hands. If you fight for the English you will
survive and grow stronger. If you fight for the French or if you do not fight
for the English, you will slowly be crippled and in a little time you will be
no more feared than the Mohicans or the Eries.

"Na-ho!"
 That was the last speech of the day, and the Council adjourned, only, as
in the case of the Senecas' tribal council, to dissolve into minor councils of
the roy-an-ehs of the different clan groups in each tribe. These continued
throughout the following day, and as the roy-an-ehs of one clan agreed they
consulted amongst themselves with the roy-an-ehs of another clan group,
and so gradually the representatives of an entire tribe came to an accord.

When the representatives of each tribe had reached the unanimity which
was required by the laws of the League, they discussed the situation
informally with the roy-an-ehs of the other tribes; and on the fifth day To-
do-da-ho summoned the final and decisive session of the Ho-yar-na-go-war.

The preliminary ceremonies were brief. After an invocation to the Great

Spirit by the Keeper of the Wampum, To-do-da-ho delivered the common
judgment of the roy-an-ehs.

"Murray and the Keepers of the Doom Trail are the enemies of the Long
House. We must break them now before they grow too powerful. Therefore
we have decided to take up the hatchet against them. But we shall send
word to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, appealing to him, by virtue of the covenant chain
between us, to support us against the vengeance of the French. This is the
decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war, O my people."

"Yo-hay!" answered the roy-an-ehs.

And the thousands of people in the meadow echoed the shout.

Do-ne-ho-ga-weh stood up.

"I have a favor to ask of the Council, O my brothers," he said. "Will you
relieve me of my duties as Guardian of the Western Door so that I may raise
the warriors who will go against the Doom Trail?"

"The request of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh is granted," replied To-do-da-ho after

a short consultation with the roy-an-ehs. "Let him set up the war-post and
strike it with his hatchet. Many brave warriors will be glad to follow so
famous a chief. So-no-so-wa, who now holds the Door, shall continue his
watch until Do-ne-ho-ga-weh returns to tell of the many scalps he took."
 The bystanders responded with the war-whoop; but my attention was
diverted by a young Onondaga who attempted to explain something to me
in his dialect. Seeing I could not understand, Ta-wan-ne-ars approached and
listened to him, a look of astonishment creasing his usually impassive face.

"The Onondaga says that a Frenchman has come to the village who
claims to have a message for you," translated the Seneca.

"For me? Who can it be from?"

But even as I asked, a sense of foreboding gripped me.

"I do not know, brother. Let us hasten and find out."

We pushed our way through the masses of warriors already beginning

the war-dance, and ran between the vegetable gardens toward Ka-na-ta-go-
wa, the roofs of whose long houses showed above the tree-tops of the lower
ground.

XXVI

THE EVIL WOOD

We found the messenger squatting placidly by the Council-House under

the guard of several Onondagas, who obviously did not relish the sight of a
Frenchman in their midst during the sitting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. He put
aside his pipe as we approached and stood up. But for his white skin, which
was rather dingy under a coating of tan and dirt, 'twould have been difficult
to distinguish him from the savages. He was of the usual type of courrier du
bois, but with an unusually repellant countenance.

"You have a message for me?" I said.

"Are you Monsieur Ormerod?" he replied in his peasant's patois.

 "I am."

He examined me with a sidewise squint out of his shifty eyes, and

fished with one hand in the bosom of his filthy leather shirt.

"You will pay for the service?" he inquired warily.

"Anything in reason," I answered impatiently.

"She said you would pay what I asked," he temporized.

"She! Who?"

My worst fears were confirmed. I took one step forward and grasped the
ruffian by the arm.

"Who?" I repeated. "Tell me, if you value your life! And give me the
message."

"No offense, no offense, monsieur" he growled, pulling away from me.

"Mademoiselle Murray——"

"Give it to me," I insisted. "We will talk of pay afterward."

He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his shirt, and offered me a folded
square of heavy paper, stained with sweat. I opened it carefully, lest it tear,
and saw these lines of fine, angular writing staring me in the face:

"La Vierge du Bois, ye 21st Sptr., 1725.

You said You wld. come if I calld for You. I Begge you now, in ye Name of All
you Holde Deer, help Mee. I am to be Forcd to wed ye Chev. de Veulle. 'Tis ye
Price he has Fixd for his Services to Mr. Murray. They have Procurd a
Dispensation from ye Bishoppe of Quebec. They will Marrie me whenne Père
Hyancinthe is returnd from a Visitt to ye Dionondadies by ye Huronne Lake. So
much grace I have obtaned from them. Help Mee. MARJORY.

Do notte Trust ye messenjer who Carries this, but plese Pay him What he asks.
Come by ye waye you Lefte through ye Woodde of ye Fake Faces.
 Stunned, I read it a second time, then handed it to Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"What is your name!" I asked the messenger whilst Ta-wan-ne-ars

scanned the paper.

"Baptiste Meurier," he said sullenly.

"How long since is it that you started from La Vierge du Bois!"

"Five weeks more or less. Monsieur has been difficult to find."

"More," I decided, remembering the date on the letter. "Do you know
what the message said?"

"How should I, monsieur?" he objected quickly. "Me, I do not read."

"Was there no other word?"

"Mais, non."

"Who gave you the paper?"

"Who but the mademoiselle herself?"

"How did she happen to choose you?"

He protruded his chest.

"Who better could she select than Baptiste Meurier?" he replied. "North
of the Lakes every one knows Baptiste Meurier—and I am not unknown to
the Iroquois."

"But how did the mademoiselle hear of you, Baptiste?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

 "Who can say? A beautiful young person says she has a mission of
much importance and profit to be performed. I reply I will go anywhere for
a price. I am told I have only to name it. And so I am here, monsieur."

"And what is your price?" I inquired, amused despite myself by the cool
insolence of the scoundrel.

"Two hundred livres," he said instantly.

"Very well. It shall be paid. You will be detained here for a time, and I
will purchase for you a sufficient number of beaver-pelts to defray that sum.
Is that satisfactory?"

"Why should I have to wait?" he parried. "Peste, Winter draws on fast,

and I——"

"You will wait," I cut him off. "And you will be paid."

And, turning to Ta-wan-ne-ars, I asked him to give the necessary

instructions to the Onondagas. The messenger, a look of sour satisfaction on
his cunning face, was marched off to undergo the restraint of an unwelcome
visitor.

"Well?" I said to Ta-wan-ne-ars.

The Seneca returned me the letter.

"See," he said, pointing to the wild geese flying in pairs to the south,
"the cold weather is coming. For the last week the northern sky has been
hard and clear. There has been snow beyond the Lakes."

"What does that mean!" I demanded.

"That Black Robe will be delayed in returning from his visit to the
Dionondadies. And that is a very good thing for us, brother. But for that I
think we would be too late."

"But we shall have fighting," I exclaimed. "The Keepers will soon

discover us, and no matter how numerous we may be they will fight
desperately. They may carry her away to Canada before we reach La Vierge
du Bois."

"That is true," he admitted. "And the thought Ta-wan-ne-ars had,

brother, was that we might leave to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Corlaer the
breaking of the Doom Trail whilst you and I with a handful of warriors
marched around by the way we escaped, as the white maiden advises in her
letter. That way is not guarded, for none has known it, and perhaps we may
hide in the Wood of the False Faces and bear off the maiden in the
confusion of a surprize attack."

"It sounds reasonable," I said doubtfully. "'Tis preferable to trusting to

the main attack."

"There is no other plan," he rejoined with energy. "Moreover, as my

brother knows, Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks to save Ga-ha-no, too."

The hint of pain in his voice, which was never absent when he spoke of
his lost love, shamed me for the instinctive selfishness which had made me
concerned only with my own troubles.

"We will not save one without the other," I cried. "No, Ta-wan-ne-ars,
do we not owe our lives as much to her as to Marjory?"

"What you say is true," he replied. "But let us not talk of what we will
do until the time comes. I hope that the Great Spirit will be lenient with my
Lost Soul, yet it may be her time has not come. If it has come we shall save
her. If it has not Ta-wan-ne-ars will try again."

"And so will I."

"My brother is generous, as always," he said simply. "Now we must tell

what we have learned to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and arrange our plans with
him."

The Guardian of the Western Door was the center of an immense mob
of warriors who danced around the war-post which had been planted in the
Council-Place. Man after man, chanting the deeds he had performed or
those he pledged himself to in the future, rushed up and struck the post with
his hatchet in token of his intent to participate in the expedition.

The grim face of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh was alight with the joy of battle.

"Behold, O my son," he called to me, "the warriors of the Eight Clans

are with us. Our brothers of the Turtle, Beaver, Bear and Wolf, and our
younger brothers of the Snipe, Heron, Deer and Hawk, all hunger for the
scalps of the Keepers of the Trail.

"A thousand braves will follow us on the war-path. We will give the
French a lesson. They shall see the might of the Long House."

But the light faded from his features as Ta-wan-ne-ars told him of the
message from Marjory. A look of cold hatred accentuated the grimness of
the hooked nose and high cheekbones.

"The French dog de Veulle is wearied of Ga-ha-no," he rasped. "He has

had enough of the red maiden. Now he craves the white. Yes, it is well that
my red nephew and my white son should go against this man who knows no
laws to curb his lust.

"He may think that I am only an Indian, but my fathers have been roy-
an-ehs and chiefs for more moons than I could count in the whole of a
moon. They sat beside the Founders. They took in marriage and they gave
in marriage. It is time that this insult to their memory was wiped out. Let it
be wiped out in a river of blood. Then, O my nephew and my son, draw; his
scalp across his trail so that no man can tell he ever passed. I charge you, do
not spare him."

"We will not spare him, O ha-nih,[1]" I promised.

[1] Father.
 "Good! It shall be as you ask. Corlaer shall guide me to the Doom Trail.
How many warriors are to go with you?"

We debated this point together, and decided that for purposes of swift
movement and secrecy we had best restrict our escort to twenty men. Do-
ne-ho-ga-weh approved this number.

"Do nothing, if you can help it, until we have begun our attack," he said.
"If you must move without us, rely upon flight, for you can not hope to
succeed by fighting."

The remainder of that day was devoted to the organization of our party
and the instruction of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and his lieutenants in the
geography of the Doom Trail and the bearing of La Vierge du Bois, which,
it must be remembered, no hostile tongue had been able to describe until
Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had escaped from the clutches of the False Faces.

Our party mustered at dawn the next morning. It consisted of twenty

stalwart young Seneca Wolves, each man selected by Ta-wan-ne-ars for
strength and wind. Despite the chill of advancing Winter in the air, they
were stripped to the waist, their leather shirts rolled in packages which were
slung from their shoulders. In addition to their clothing and weapons each
man also carried two lengthy contrivances of wood, with hide strips laced
across them.

"What are they for?" I asked as Ta-wan-ne-ars presented me with a pair

and showed me how to fasten them on my back so that the narrower ends
stuck up over my head.

"Ga-weh-ga—snow-shoes," he replied. "In the wilderness, brother, the

snow lies deep, and we should sink down at every step once the ground was
covered after the first storm. You must learn how to use the ga-weh-ga, for
otherwise you would be helpless."

Few Indians in the long chain of encampments in the Onondaga Valley

saw us march forth, and those who did thought we were only an advance
scout, for we kept our purpose a strict secret, even from the warriors of our
escort. They were told no more than that they were given an opportunity to
go upon a hazardous venture which should yield them fame and a
proportionate toll of scalps.

That was all they wanted to know. Ta-wan-ne-ars was a leader they had
fought under before. I was assigned a wholly undeserved measure of fame
because of my recent adventures in his company.

We marched rapidly, taking advantage of the withering of the foliage to

abandon the Great Trail and cut across country through the forest, which
stood untouched outside the infrequent clearings of the Iroquois. For three
days we averaged thirty miles a day, and each day, when, we camped, I
practised with the snow-shoes on some level bit of ground, learning how to
walk without catching the points and tripping myself.

We had not gone very far on the fourth day when O-da-wa-an-do, the
Otter, a warrior who had attached himself to me, pointed through the
leafless trees toward a grayish-white bank which was rolling down upon us
from the north.

"O-ge-on-de-o," he said. "It snows."

The word was passed along the line, and Ta-wan-ne-ars ordered the
warriors to don their shirts. Fifteen minutes later the snow began to fall.
Driven by a piercing wind, it descended like a vast, enveloping blanket,
coldly damp, strangling the breath, blinding the eyes, numbing the muscles.

We struggled along against it until we came to a hillside scattered with

large boulders. Here we halted and built shelters for ourselves by roofing
the boulders with pine saplings we hacked down with our tomahawks.
Under these, with fires roaring at our feet, we made shift to resist the cold.

The snow fell for the better part of two days, so thickly as to preclude
traveling, and during that time we dared not stir from shelter, except to
collect firewood. In the evening of the second day the storm passed, and the
stars shone out in a sky that was a hard, metallic blue.

"We have lost much time, brothers," said Ta-wan-ne-ars, "and we have
had a long rest. Let us push on tonight."
 After the fashion of the Iroquois he always gave his commands in the
form of advice; but no warrior ever thought of disputing him.

"I no longer see the Loon above us," I remarked to him as I put on my
snow-shoes. "How shall you find your way?"

"The Great Spirit has taken care of that," he answered, and he raised his
arm toward the sparkling group of the Pleiades. "There are the Got-gwen-
dar, the Seven Dancers. They shine for us in the Winter, and we shall guide
our steps by them."

Our progress that night and for several days afterward was slowed
considerably by my clumsiness on snow-shoes. But The Otter and other
warriors went to considerable pains to help me, picking out the easiest
courses to follow, quick with hint or advice to remedy my ignorance. I
became proficient enough to travel at the tail of the column, although my
companions could never march as rapidly as they would have done without
me.

After starting we met only one party of Oneida hunters, who had not
heard of the decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war to take the war-path against
Murray. The Mohawks had all retired to their villages for the Winter, and
the wilderness which was traversed by the Doom Trail was deserted
because of the universal Indian fear of the False Faces. Ta-wan-ne-ars and I
discussed this point as we neared the forbidden country, and I suggested
that he tell his followers our destination.

He waited until we were a long day's march from and well to the
northwest of the goal. Then he gathered the warriors about him as they
mustered for the trail.

"Soon, O my brothers," he said in the musical, cadenced Seneca dialect

which I was beginning to take pleasure in understanding, "we shall strike
our enemies. It is a desperate enterprise you go upon. No war-party ever set
out to risk such heavy odds. No warriors of the Long House were ever
called upon to practise such caution, to reveal such courage.
 "O my brothers, we are going into the Wood of Evil, the haunt of the
False Faces which is the breeding-place of all the wickedness that brands
the Keepers of the Doom Trail. You will face much that is horrible. You will
be threatened with spells and witchcraft. But I ask you to remember that my
brother O-te-ti-an-i and I passed through all such perils without harm. Keep
your hearts strong."

"Yo-hay," muttered the warriors in gutteral assent. "We will keep our
hearts strong, O Ta-wan-ne-ars."

Their faces were more serious than before, but they exhibited no signs
of fear. Several asked questions as to the False Faces and their rites, and we
explained to them the false atmosphere of horror which had been spread
designedly to protect the traffic of the Doom Trail.

We moved much more cautiously now that we were near our journey's
end, with three scouts always in front, one on either flank of the path we
trod. But we saw no signs of other men, although many times we came
upon bear-tracks. Toward evening we struck the waters of the tumbling
little river through which Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had waded that night after
Marjory had released us.

Here we rested whilst scouts went ahead as far as the edge of the Evil
Wood. They returned to report not a footprint in the snow. We ate a little
parched corn mixed with maple-sugar and some jerked meat we carried in
our haversacks.

About midnight we all moved forward, Ta-wan-ne-ars leading the line.

The oaks and elms, maples and willows, which had composed the elements
of the forest, now gave place to tall, funereal firs, whose massive jade-green
foliage remained untouched by the icy breath of Winter.

It seemed as if we had entered a different world when they closed

around us. The stars had twinkled through the bare branches of the other
trees. Here were utter darkness and a far-away, mournful music of wind
rustlings and clashing boughs. Grotesque shadows darted vaguely over the
white ground as the trees swayed and groaned. In the distance an owl
hooted solemnly. The Otter touched my shoulder.
 "Did you hear the owl?" he murmured.

"Yes," I whispered back.

"It is cold for an owl to leave his tree-hole."

He threw back his head, and I started at the fidelity of the repetition.

"Too-whoo-oo! Too-hoo!"

We listened, but there was no answer. Instead, after a brief interval, the
howl of a wolf resounded.

A few yards farther on the owl hooted again. The line halted, and the
warrior in front of him whispered that Ta-wan-ne-ars wished to speak with
me. I passed by him and several others and came to where the chief stood,
peering, or trying the peer, into the night.

"There was something strange about the owl, brother," he said. "The
warriors told me that the Otter answered it, yet it did not reply. And then the
wolf——"

A yell as of fiends from hell shattered the mantle of silence. Flames

spurted through the firs, and in the gleam of the discharges and of torches
thrown into our midst I had a fleeting glimpse of hideous masked figures
bounding between the tree-trunks.

"Keep your hearts strong, brothers of the Long House," shouted Ta-
wan-ne-ars. "They are only Cahnuaga dogs. Stand to it."

He fired as he spoke. I imitated him. Our men shot off a scattering

volley. Then the False Faces were amongst us, coming from all sides,
springing out of the ground, dropping from the very branches overhead and
wielding their ga-je-was, or war-clubs, with dreadful effect.
 XXVII

GA-HA-NO'S SACRIFICE

There was no time to reload. We fought with ax and knife as best we

could. Ta-wan-ne-ars and I, with half a dozen of our warriors, crowded back
to back. The rest of our party were cut off in twos and threes.

Resistance was hopeless. The swarms of False Faces seemed to care

nothing for death if only they could bring down an Iroquois. They eschewed
steel altogether, and battered down opposition with their knotted war-clubs,
which shattered arms and shoulder-blades, but seldom killed.

I was knocked senseless by a blow which I partially warded with my

tomahawk. When I came to I was lying in the snow in front of a huge fire.
My arms were bound and my head ached so violently that I felt sick.

"Is my brother in pain?" asked the voice of Ta-wan-ne-ars.

I rolled over to find him lying beside me, the blood from three or four
trivial cuts freezing on his head and shoulders.

"Yes," I groaned, "but 'tis naught."

"There was treachery," he said. "They knew we were coming, and they
lost many men so that they might take us alive."

"All our warriors——" I faltered.

He turned his head to the left; and, following his gaze, I saw that I was
on the right of a line of recumbent figures, which my dizziness would not
permit me to count.

"No, not all, I think," Ta-wan-ne-ars answered after a moment. "Five are
slain and fourteen others lie here. But I do not see the Otter."

He addressed the warrior next to him, but none of our fellow-prisoners

could account for the Otter.
 "The Otter suspected something wrong," I said. "'Twas he who
answered the owl's call."

"It may be he escaped," replied Ta-wan-ne-ars. "I must warn our

brothers to say naught of him. If the keepers do not suspect, they may
believe they have all of us safe in their net."

He whispered his warning to the man beside him, and it was passed
down the line.

"Your head is much swollen, brother," he said, rolling over again so as

to face me. "Let Ta-wan-ne-ars make shift to bathe it with snow."

A shadow fell athwart us as we lay and a mocking voice replied for me:

"By all means, most excellent Iroquois. I trust you will nurse our
valuable captive back to full strength and health."

I struggled to a sitting position, for I liked not to lie at de Veulle's feet,

however much I might be at his mercy.

"So you walked into the spider's web," he continued, standing betwixt
me and the firelight which ruddied his sinful face. "A woman's plea—and
you threw caution to the winds! You fool! I used to value you as an enemy,
but 'tis tame work fighting against a man who thinks I keep so easy a watch
as to permit our beautiful friend to come and go as she lists."

"The letter was a bait?" I exclaimed incredulously.

"For you—yes. I say again—you fool! Baptiste took the letter to

Murray, and Murray read it to me. It could not have been contrived more
skilfully to suit our plans."

'Twas ridiculous, no doubt, but I was easier in my heart for assurance

that Marjory had not known her appeal was used as a lure. It enabled me to
maintain a stoicism of demeanor I did not feel.

"Well, 'twas kind of you to make such haste," he went on, sneering
down at me. "You will be in time for the wedding after all. Oh, never fear;
you shall be permitted to live that long. We have plenty of meat in this bag
to supply diversion for our savages in the meantime.

"You, my friend, and the noble Iroquois here"—he kicked Ta-wan-ne-

ars viciously—"shall be kept for the last. Who knows! We may have a new
Mistress of the False Faces then. We are not pleased with the present one.
There was something uncommonly odd about the circumstances of your
escape—although 'tis true I had the little wildcat in my arms at the time—
and it would add to the aroma of the mystery to have a white Mistress for a
change. Aye, that is an idea worth considering."

He switched suddenly into the Seneca vernacular.

"Are you all here, Iroquois dogs?" he demanded curtly. "The scouts
reported twenty warriors."

"All are here, French mongrel," returned Ta-wan-ne-ars pleasantly.

De Veulle kicked him.

"Keep that for the torture-stake," he advised. "We have five corpses and
fourteen warriors and yourself. That is all?"

"All," reiterated Ta-wan-ne-ars.

De Veulle passed along the line, cross-questioning each prisoner to an

accompaniment of kicks and threats. All told the same story. Next to
success in battle nothing pleased an Iroquois more than the opportunity to
exhibit indifference to torture. De Veulle seemed satisfied. The mistake he
made was in failing to understand that the scouts had not counted Ta-wan-
ne-ars, a chief, as a warrior. He returned to my side, and summoned a host
of masked figures from the surrounding shadows. They jerked us to our
feet, stamped out the fire and escorted us over the trampled, bloody snow
where we had fought, through the gloomy aisles of the Evil Wood and into
the irregular streets of La Vierge du Bois.

The dawn was a mere hint of pink in the eastern sky, but the Cahnuagas
and their allied broods of renegades were all awake to greet us, and our
guards forced a passage through the mass with difficulty. To our surprize,
we were carried by the oblong hulk of the Council-House, and traversed the
Indian village without stopping. Ahead of us loomed the tower of the chapel
and the house where Murray dwelt, encircled by its stockade.

Two men stood by the gate of the stockade to greet us. One was Murray,
debonair as ever in a frieze greatcoat, with a showing of lace at the collar,
and a cocked hat. The other was Baptiste Meurier.

The unsavory face of the courrier de bois grinned appreciation of my

astonishment.

"Peste, monsieur!" he exclaimed. "It seems you are a slow traveler. I

feared I might be behind you, but I arrived twenty-four hours in advance. I
have to thank you for the beaver-pelts. They were a sufficient bribe for my
immediate release."

"That will do, Baptiste," interjected Murray.

And to me:

"One might think the animal deserved credit for a plan in which he was
the humble instrument of superior intellects—which, I am bound to say,
displayed their superiority mainly by seizing upon the opening presented to
them by fortune. No, no; even had the good Baptiste been delayed we
should have been ready for you. Heard you ever, Ta-wan-ne-ars, of scouts
who wore bears' pads for moccasins?"

For the first and only time during our acquaintance Ta-wan-ne-ars was
surprized into a look of chagrin.

"We thought it was late for bears to be out," he admitted.

Murray chuckled with amusement.

"Quite so, quite so! And so you visit us once more, Master Ormerod. I
confess 'tis an unexpected pleasure which we shall strive to make the most
of."